the noble heart of so devoted a woman as
Ellen Mowbray he felt himself richer than if
he had dug up all the gold in the creeks of
Victoria.

The next day, Miss Tracy, whose good,
clear sense and warm-hearted character he
more and more admired, took him a long
ride through the woods and hills, which
greatly raised his ideas of the country there,
and on their return, as he waited for dinner,
he heard voices in the adjoining room, which
was the sleeping-room of Miss Tracy, the
house being only of one storey, which made
him wonder what guest had arrived in his
absence. It was the voice of another lady,
very like in its utterance to that of Miss
Tracy. Presently, as the conversation grew
more earnest, he caught a tone which thrilled
through his heart like fire. It was the very
tone of Ellen Mowbray, as he had heard it in
her happiest moments, and as he thought he
could never confound with any other. But
that could not be hers; she could not be
here.

As he stood full of wonder in that most
wonderful house, which at every instant gave
him a new surprise, a bright face appeared
at the door, an exclamation of delight was
given, and Ellen Mowbray herself was in his
arms.

There she was, glowing and trembling with
emotion, beautiful as ever, but with the
expression of a saddened experience, and a
woman's deepest anxiety stamped on those
lovely, mind-ennobled features. George now
learned that after her father's death Ellen, on
learning that her uncle Tracy had removed
from New Zealand to this colony, had
determined to pay them a visit, and learn, if
possible, the fate of her lover. She had left her
property in the care of George's father. She
had been here three months, occupied—
hitherto in vain—with inquiries after him.
The quick eye of Miss Tracy had detected
him, or he might have crossed the mountains
and returned to Europe, there to find that
he had passed her very door at the antipodes.

George now learned another fact, that
Miss Tracy was engaged to a neighbouring
gentleman, Captain Maitland, who lived
about ten miles off, and that Ellen was on a
visit to his mother, who lived with him, at
the time of George's arrival. Miss Tracy had
sent off post-haste a message with the joyful
news, and here she was.

There needs no attempt to paint the
happiness that now reigned at Mount Tracy.
Every one was now as blest as human beings
can be. There remained no jarring chord in
the spiritual harmony of the youthful lovers.
Tracy was supremely happy in having
thus achieved the happiness of her friends,
and Mr. Tracy, whose mild and benevolent
heart rejoiced in all human good, was
pre-eminently happy in this singular and
fortunate reunion.

The next day an expedition was made to
Captain Maitland's, with whom George
Widdrington soon established a warm friendship.
His simple, yet gentlemanly and highly
intelligent mind and character, were such as
won universally on all who were of an
elevated and manly grade. His character
differed much from that of poor Adam
Swinburne, and could never take the same sacred
place in his heart, but was one for which he
soon felt a brotherly affection. The two
young men hunted together in the woods and
mountains, where the kangaroo and emu still
remained plentifully, and where the nightly
howlings of the wild dogs told them that
they never could want beasts for the chace.

So greatly were both George and Ellen
Mowbray delighted with the country, and
with the society of their affectionate relatives,
that they determined to settle there at least
for some years. This resolve was received
by their friends with exultation. With such
a society they could never be lonely; and the
noble features of that mountainous district,
with its resources for the chace, and the
scenery of its great herds of cattle which
ranged the hills and hilly glades, its free,
uncircumscribed rides, and an ample supply
of books and music from England, gave a
grand charm to their existence.

The following spring, George and Ellen,
and Captain Maitland and Miss Tracy, were
married on the same day, by a neighbouring
clergyman. The Captain took his wife to his
own station, and George and Ellen remained
with the kind and fatherly Mr. Tracy. Since
then, George's father and mother have gone
over, and settled near them. Andrew, the
other son, sticks to the old dwelling of
Windy Haugh. The house of the Mowbrays
is let.

Old Mr. Widdrington finds endless subjects
of wonder in everything around him: the
immense estates over which the flocks and
herds wander; the very little land put under
the plough; the strange, jumping creatures,
the kangaroos, and the long-legged runners,
the emus, vastly amaze him; and not less,
that the hares jump like the kangaroos, and
the rabbits have got up into the trees. The
natives, too, excite his wrath and contempt:
poor, feckless things, rambling about worse
than gipsies, and downright arrant beggars,
where there is such a scarcity of labour. He
believes they have grown black by never
washing themselves, and rubbing grease
over them to keep off the flies, which, he
thinks, catches the soot of their fires, that
they sit over for days together.

In one of George's journeys down to
Melbourne, he came across Tom Boyd, tending
his flock on a very solitary station, and, as
he had read all his books, and was just thinking
of going home, he has persuaded him to
exchange sheep for cattle, and Tom has done
it, and gone up to Mount Tracy, lured by the
promise of more books, and the opportunity of